


When your (un)life's been shattered

by brennivin



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Comfort Sex, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Reid has the big sad, Spoilers, Strickland is small of brain and big of gay, Unrequited Love, dork (singular) in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:09:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27502093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brennivin/pseuds/brennivin
Summary: rarepair hours rarepair hoursThoreau Strickland comes to visit his senior colleague (and thinly veiled object of his desire) because he's concerned about his mental state.
Relationships: Elisabeth Ashbury/Jonathan Reid, Jonathan Reid/Thoreau Strickland
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	When your (un)life's been shattered

It had been hard for Strickland not to stare, ever since Reid had first walked into Pembroke Hospital. It wasn’t exactly every day that one’s most admired career idols suddenly walked into their place of work. Naturally, he’d been giddy at the opportunity to even speak to him.

Reid had been flattered by his excitement, but had awkwardly pushed through it. He was a west end gentleman - they didn’t respond too easily to such intense interaction, especially of the affectionate kind. 

For a few nights after that, Strickland internally cursed at himself for making Dr. Reid feel so uncomfortable. He’d acted a bit childish, really. It was unlike him to behave like that.

-

The first time that Dr Reid started to invade Thoreau’s thoughts in a way he hadn’t expected, he’d been tucked into bed at home as the sun was starting to reach its full brightness in the sky. He’d gotten used to the night shift, but he hadn’t gotten used to this feeling that was keeping him awake so insistently.

It felt as if his eyelids were the weight of concrete and yet the calm embrace of sleep refused him.  _ Drat,  _ he thought to himself,  _ just what has gotten into me? _

He tried and tried to clear his mind but all he could think about was Reid. It was the most peculiar thing. It was all Reid’s low voice with its slight gravelly rumble and his polite little gestures that so strongly juxtaposed his tall, imposing frame. He couldn’t escape from Reid right now. It became apparent that he’d allowed himself to become quite infatuated. 

Sure, he’d already felt so strongly drawn to him before meeting him face-to-face that he’d be likely taken with the man regardless of appearance. Still, when he’d strolled into Pembroke hospital so finely dressed and peered at him with those clear blue eyes he had been done for.

Worming a hand into his nightclothes he found that sure enough, he really was in too deep. Wrapping his fingers around himself he turned over onto his side to hastily tug himself off. It felt shameful to do so while thinking of his colleague, who was asleep in his own bed not far from himself. He wondered how Jonathan would feel knowing what he was doing, and shamefully it only caused him further arousal. 

-

Strickland could not exactly recall what had brought him upstairs to Dr. Reid’s office this evening, but it had probably been some weak excuse to simply bother him. He couldn’t really help himself. The man was practically his idol – the man he most fondly admired. He’d realised now how far his feelings had taken him.

Ackroyd knew. Of course he knew. He was brimming with jealousy from the moment he caught them talking about blood transfusion. It was no coincidence that he’d started behaving so strangely. Still, he didn’t care at all for the older man’s petty complaints. What mattered was that he got to discuss his research with the one man who could help him finally crack this. Any time spent enjoying Dr. Reid’s company was time well spent. That was the excuse. That was the exact excuse he would use if anybody asked.

He knocked timidly. It was late into the night shift, so he was probably in here pouring over some diagnostics and paperwork. Being in charge came with a lot of red tape. Maybe a distraction was just what he needed, since he’d been looking particularly grim today.

There wasn’t a response. Reid was definitely in there but he didn’t respond. Strickland had no choice but to knock harder, wincing as he did. It didn’t exactly delight him to be noisy nor rude.

Finally, the door swung open. He was sure he’d never seen the head surgeon looking so haggard, even his normally groomed beard looking slightly messy.

“Dr. Reid, sir, terribly sorry to interrupt you but I couldn’t help notice you’ve been in relatively poor spirits recently.” He politely explained, hands clasping and unclasping with each other. “The epidemic has shown signs of massive improvement, so I was wondering if you had anything burdening you that I could--”

“Come in.” He grunted, his voice laboured and almost defeated.

He followed the senior surgeon into his office, watching him pull up a seat and taking it with gratitude. Reid casually sat himself down on top of a nearby counter. It was strange to see him forego all politeness, but it was his own office after all.

“So is there some way I can help you, sir?” Strickland breached the silence, examining his face to find it even paler than usual. “It’s our duty to provide care, and if we can’t care for each other what use are we to our patients? You’re the one who showed me that.”

Reid cracked a sad little smile. “I was, wasn’t I?”

He leaned forward and his elbows dropped onto his knees, his scruffy chin falling into his hands.

“Patients are starting to recover from the flu. We had a couple of discharges today, which you probably already know.” He mentioned.

“I’m glad. We’ve all pushed ourselves to fight this.”

Still, his expression didn’t change.

“Did something happen? You can talk to me about it.” The younger man tried. “Lord knows I’ve talked to you about things bothering me on plenty of occasions. Perhaps it would only be fair for me to return the favour by hearing your concerns.”

“It’s… Lady Ashbury.” He admitted, seeming hesitant. “Unfortunately I found out that she retreated to the country in fear of… the epidemic. A house fire tragically killed her. The two of us had become, um, friends.”

“Oh.” 

He felt his own heart deflate slightly at the news. Lady Ashbury had been a most generous supporter of the hospital, and had always brightened its halls with her positivity and support. She was like a shining beam of hope for a lot of patients here, and personally took care of people who were on the verge of death. Losing her was going to be a terrible blow in the long term. She was an inspirational woman.

“I’m genuinely sorry to hear that. Lady Ashbury will be sorely missed. She had a wonderful mind and was always charitable.”

“You’re right. She was a very special person.”

Strickland raised an eyebrow. “If you don’t mind me asking, were the two of you…”

“I do mind, actually.”

His refusal to even hear the question was enough of an answer. That was terribly unfortunate.

“I’m terribly sorry.”

Reid sighed. “It’s awful. I’m sure I’ll recover in time, but still.”

“We will all be mourning her, too. I promise, we’ll support each other through this loss.”

Not really thinking, he reached forward and put a hand over Reid’s. He realised too late that it might have been an overstepping of boundaries.

Registering the younger doctor’s soft palm on the back of his hand, Reid flinched slightly. He wasn’t sure how to react, it seemed, but he wasn’t annoyed by the awkward gesture of affection. That was a relief. Thoreau was fully prepared for a biting rejection.

He supposed it was because he’d never made his affections much of a secret.

“Dr. Strickland, I’m not sure your behaviour is very professional right now.” He nervously fidgeted, and Thoreau soon realised that he was testing the waters. 

Feeling his own face warm up, Thoreau responded. “Can’t really blame me for that, can you? Your situation is hardly a crisis of profession.”

“Well, that’s true.” He mused, lifting his hand slightly so that the other’s was dragged along with it.

After a few seconds of staring at the back of Thoreau’s hand, Jonathan breathed out such a deep breath that the other could see his body sinking into a more relaxed position. The air rushing out of his mouth brushed over Thoreau’s wrist, and he was surprised at how cold his breath felt.

He tried to pull back his hand, feeling as if he might be invading his space. Reid grabbed his wrist almost roughly, stopping him.

Thoreau’s eyes flinched wide and he openly stared at the Head Surgeon for a while. That certainly wasn’t what he had expected.

“Dr. Reid?” 

He dragged the back of Strickland’s fingers across his beard. Despite how scruffy it was from his long night of work, the hair was still soft enough. It seemed he took good enough care of it most of the time that even in this state it felt pleasant. He seemed to be enjoying the sensation too, taking a moment to just enjoy the stimulus of a hand in his beard.

“Sorry.” His voice was low and breathy. “I just… can’t bear to be alone tonight.”

Thoreau couldn’t help the feelings those words conjured in his mind. He was an imaginative man; as a scientist he really ought to be, did he not? Perhaps neither of them would have to spend the night alone. He could feel his heart rate increase, and his skin felt cold in comparison to his warming core.

“I understand.”

“No.” He slipped off of the counter and walked closer, stopping just in front of him. “I don’t think you do.”

“Sorry?” 

The look on his face was incomprehensible. It was as if he’d sensed the very moment that his pulse had changed and immediately reacted. He still held onto Thoreau’s wrist possessively, and he guided the quivering hand so that it eventually rested between his hospital coat and waistcoat.

When he felt his fingers brush against the other’s rib cage through the layers of his clothing, Thoreau had no clue what to do with himself. He felt as if his heart would explode in his chest.

“Do you understand now? It seems like you do.”

“I-- Why, Dr. Reid… I really don’t know what to say.”

Holding his hand in place against his side and dragging in lower until it rested on his waist, Jonathan idly placed his own hand over Strickland’s cheek. There was something odd about how his hand felt on the skin. It wasn’t necessarily shockingly cold, but it wasn’t as warm as you would expect either. It was an odd temperature.

“Your face is remarkably flushed, Thoreau. If I didn’t know better I would think you were unwell.” He muttered, a slight chuckle lingering in the back of his throat.

“I’m quite alright.”

He allowed Reid to tilt his head back, and daren’t move as he watched him close the gap between them. Eventually he was so close that Thoreau’s eyes instinctually fluttered shut.

“You are, aren’t you?” His breath brushed softly against Thoreau’s face and it became apparent how close they were.

Despite his intense stature and presence, Dr. Reid was surprisingly shy. His lips pressed so slowly against Thoreau’s own that it was almost torturously gentle. 

A small sound escaped Strickland’s throat. It was all he could do to tighten his grip on the other’s waist ever so slightly. After weeks of admiring him from afar - and a far longer stretch of simply fawning over his works and reputation - he was now sitting in Dr Reid’s office with a hand on his waist and his lips against his own. The thought alone was destabilising and unbelievable. He believed for certain that any minute now he would wake from this and it would have all been a dream.

He pulled back sharply, and Thoreau’s eyes opened again to see that his expression was no more readable than before.

“I must admit, I feel oddly comforted with you.” Jonathan struggled to look him in the eyes, embarrassed. “I suppose it’s because you’re a particularly loyal colleague. I can trust you not to turn your back on me. ”

Thoreau cleared his throat urgently. “Of course you can. I’ve always admired you and idolised you. I-I’ve always… To be particularly candid I’ve always hoped somewhat, deep within myself, that I’d one day have this opportunity.”

“Opportunity?” The choice of words certainly seemed to amuse and flatter him. His voice trailed upwards as his lips curled into a Mona Lisa smile. “I wasn’t aware that you considered me such a prize.”

“I do.” He punctuated his point by more assertively squeezing Jonathan’s waist and this drew out a choked sound that undeniably piqued his interest. He wondered what sounds he could get out of him. “And I can tell how much you would appreciate some company right now. I, too, would be relieved to not be alone tonight.”

Urged forward by the reactions he was getting, Strickland felt a little bit bolder. He started to rise from his chair and Jonathan backed up to make room for him until both of them stood fully upright. The older man was taller by a significant amount but he allowed the other to guide and lead him nonetheless until the counter he had previously been sitting on stopped him in his tracks.

“Thoreau.” His voice was barely above a whisper as another hand grasped his waist from the other side and the young surgeon pulled him in.

This entire situation was reckless and overall irresponsible. Not only were they breaking workplace rules by having personal relations between them but also they were doing so during work hours. Jonathan had been so quick to alert Milton of the dangers of workplace fraternising, and now the two of them were behaving no better. If anything, they were being  _ far _ less responsible than Milton and Pippa were. Of course, this was all topped off by the fact that both of them were men. That was no small factor in how dangerous this whole thing was. If either of them were found to be inclined towards homosexual relations it could endanger their positions or even lead to other repercussions. Strickland could not speak for Jonathan, but he personally found that this caused him anxiety.

Neither of them seemed all too concerned about this in the moment, though. Thoreau certainly wasn’t. Right now all he could think about was Jonathan’s lean body pushing desperately into his, so pliant in his hands and so reactive to his kiss. It was too surreal for him to care about anything else.

The closer they got, the more Reid’s legs were gradually eased apart to make space. Eventually, he found himself planted between the older man’s legs as he lifted him back onto the counter. Jonathan allowed himself to be handled by Thoreau. He seemed to quite enjoy it, and in return he tugged at the lapels of his medical coat to bring them close again. Despite his nerves Strickland’s hands were as steady as ever – he was a surgeon after all – and he worked open the buttons on Reid’s own coat quickly before sliding it aside.

He pulled back for air, and the ever-stoic head surgeon looked practically feral with need. It was quite the sight to behold, to see him reduced to such an almost animalistic state. It was a treat to see his eyes so glazed over with lust and to feel his lower body canting to better press into the growing heat between his legs. He could feel that Reid’s arousal was growing, too. Soon enough it was an urgent weight against his own. 

“Dr. Reid, I want to please you.” He mumbled in a desperate pitch, eager to see just how far he could push past Jonathan’s veneer of politeness. “Tell me, how do you want it?”

Reid’s face fell into the crook of his neck and he felt him breathe in his scent with a deep inhale. “Take me, Thoreau.”

It was such an earnest request, practically growled against his skin. If he wasn’t ready to oblige whatever request he had before, he was certainly ready now that he had heard it. 

He couldn’t possibly undress him fast enough, but Reid was happy to make up for this. They shed an article at a time, throwing it over the back of the chair in a messy pile. Jonathan was as impossibly gorgeous underneath his clothes as he was dressed. Thoreau breathlessly ran his fingers through the thin hair that ran down his sternum, then the ridge of his ribcage. He felt the modest layer of muscle on the man’s stomach and gasped as he felt fingers trace his own spine. Thoreau himself was unremarkable and thin, but Jonathan took to his pale skin with enthusiasm. His tongue traced along the younger man’s collarbone and he hopped off of the counter to remove his trousers and underwear.

Thoreau could do little else but just watch as he finished disrobing. He dug around in a drawer, which seemed to contain all manner of miscellaneous things, to pull out a little tin of petroleum jelly. He watched again as Reid popped it open and coated two fingers with the oily substance.

“This won’t take long.” He stated, in a tone that would almost sound professional if it weren’t for the circumstances.

Strickland nodded, and idly stroked himself at the sight of Jonathan bending himself over the counter to sink his fingers in. It was incredible to watch. He did it so easily and soon he was scissoring himself open and looking longingly over his shoulder at the younger surgeon and it was hard to wait any longer. His motions were so practiced and clever, and as he bent his fingers at one particular angle Thoreau could see his face twitch. He simply couldn’t wait any longer.

He grabbed Jonathan’s hips and pulled them back, earning a slight gasp of surprise. His hand returned to the counter to help keep him upright, and Thoreau wasted no time in pressing into him.

“Fuck—” A single expletive burst from his lips as he was breached, and eventually collapsed into a long drawn out whine of relief.

And he thought he’d never in his life hear Jonathan Reid say such a word.

Thoreau couldn’t help but lean his head against Jonathan’s back as he began to move.

He’d really never thought it possible that this would happen, and Dr. Reid felt incredible as he pulled back and pushed back in. It felt like he was sucking him in deeper and wouldn’t let go. He noticed that his insides were a little less warm than he’d anticipated but he tried not to worry about that. His hand, his breath, and now even the inside of him. It wasn’t his place to point it out. Dr. Reid was a fine physician. He could take care of himself. Thoreau was sure of that.

Feeling the roll of Reid’s hips as he backed into his movements and muttered little encouragements and expletives was like a dosage of opium. It took everything in him to not lose composure and end this too soon.

“Wait--” Reid pushed him back with surprising physical strength, and Strickland merely stood back and waited for him to say something else. “Bed. I’ll take over from here.”

He was out of breath and not nearly as verbose as he usually was. The stark difference was quite exciting. It was like he was seeing a side of him that nobody else was allowed to - a side that was more raw and emotional and less bothered about appearances. The more of it that Thoreau got to see the more he liked it.

“Go ahead and lie down for me.” Reid instructed.

His voice was gruff and low and commanding. Strickland found himself obeying almost without thinking, not that he wouldn’t have obeyed anyways out of sheer eagerness. He made his way to Reid’s bed and laid back, just in time for the other to clamber into his lap and sink back down onto him. 

It didn’t take nearly as long this time, and soon Reid was seated fully in his lap. He looked quite beautiful like this, and Thoreau instinctively wrapped his hands around his waist. 

A little blood rushed to Jonathan’s cheeks and his cock visibly twitched at the feeling. He lifted his hips and dropped again, and Strickland felt as if he could die of sheer ecstasy. Seeing the man he had idolised and daydreamed of for so long, and from a safe distance at that, shamelessly riding him like it was the most natural thing in the world had an undeniable effect on him. Jonathan curled a hand around the headboard bars of his bed and built a steady rhythm of rises and falls.

He focused on not cumming too soon, his eyes fluttering closed as weak little moans escaped his lips. Whilst he may have been taking the penetrative role here, it felt as if Reid were the one dominating and controlling him. It was perfect, he realised.

Running out of options, Strickland resorted to wrapping a hand around Reid’s cock and giving it quick, steady strokes. He definitely enjoyed the man’s reaction. Reid gasped in a devastatingly gorgeous way, his muscles tightening around Thoreau’s cock and he started to move faster. He suddenly looked like he could spill over any second, and to Strickland’s delight he realised that Reid had possibly been holding onto his composure about as well as he had.

Adjusting the position of his legs, Thoreau tried pushing up into him, just a bit. Reid had to throw a hand over his mouth to prevent himself from screaming as his orgasm suddenly took over him. His release made a mess of Thoreau’s stomach and hand, and he soon followed closely behind. 

He could tell that Jonathan was feeling it as his own release spilled over inside of him, and he saw his mouth twitch in response accompanied by little whimpers of pleasure. Was it really so satisfying for him?

As he came down from the aftershocks of it, Thoreau opened his eyes to see that Dr. Reid was staring down at him. There was something predatory in his gaze, although it didn’t appear that he intended to hurt him. It was most peculiar. 

“J-Jonathan?” He timidly blurted out his name, hoping he would say something to make this less, well, awkward.

“A-ah, my apologies.” He suddenly started, clearing his throat. It was as if his usual polite behaviours had snapped back into place once the passion of the moment had died. “I was simply lost in thought, is all.”

“Oh. I understand.”

Once Jonathan had moved from his lap he quickly moved to dress himself. Ackroyd would become suspicious of him if he were missing for much longer, and he didn’t want a repeat of the last time he’d irritated his older colleague by leaving him alone on the hospital floor for too long. He’d finally made himself look presentable again, when he turned to look at the Head Surgeon.

Dr. Reid was staring out at the night sky from his balcony, and he turned his head to nod in a silent show of pleasantry.

He did not feel the same way Thoreau did, but that didn’t sting too much. It was enough for him to have done something to comfort him during a time of hardship.

Strickland took his leave, back into the usual fray of caring for his patients.


End file.
